


Crush

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy’s having growing pains. They’re all about Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> I thought we could all use a nice warm Wincest blanket after the S9 finale. Thanks to beta [](http://vennstiel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://vennstiel.livejournal.com/)**vennstiel**.

 

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean crowed.

Sam shoved his face into the pillow and refused to move until Dean lobbed a damp towel at his head. Sam shoved it off and rolled over. Sunlight lit up the sheers over the big motel room window like a movie screen between reels, and Sam squinted against the glare.

“What the hell, Dean? It’s Saturday.” He bent his knees and put an arm over his lap as he sat up to hide his morning wood.

“Dad called …”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Hey, you think I wouldn’t like to still be in bed?” Dean’s hair was damp and spiky from his shower. He already had jeans on, but he was shirtless. The chill morning air made his nipples hard as little cherry pits. Sam looked away. He never noticed that before. Didn’t Dean used to have flat little nipples like him? Was this new? Had he just not noticed before? His cock was achingly hard. What the fuck? Morning wood, right.

“Hey, hey!” Dean snapped his fingers. “Earth to Sam. Up and at ‘em!”

“All right!” Sam rose with his back to his brother and shuffled toward the bathroom.

“Dad’ll be here in thirty! He wants us ready to hit the road!” Dean yelled as the bathroom door banged shut.

There was no time to jack off, and anyway … he turned the shower on cold and shivered as he stepped under the spray.

~~~

Sam came in from school and stopped just inside the door. Dean was in the kitchenette digging through the cabinets. They had an efficiency this time – not enough room for the three of them, but Dad had only been there two nights anyway. He’d slept in the recliner. Sam and Dean slept on the fold-out couch together. It was crowded with too many arms and legs, too much heat and skin. Sam couldn’t sleep.

Watching Dean now, the way he moved, so graceful and efficient. Sam felt awkward and gangly. He wondered if he’d ever grow into his body the way Dean had. Sam watched the bunch and stretch of muscle play under Dean’s t-shirt as he reached for a box in the upper cabinet. The hem of his shirt pulled up exposing a thin line of skin above his jeans. The soft denim was stretched tight over the globes of his ass.

“Hey,” Dean said as he turned. “What do you think – mac and cheese or Hamburger Helper without hamburger?” He held a box in each hand.

Sam shrugged and dumped his backpack in the recliner.

“Look, I know it’s not much,” Dean said. “I’ll go out and hustle some pool tonight. Make a few bucks.”

Sam could hear the guilt and apology in his brother’s voice and seethed inwardly at his father. Better to focus on that rather than the way his cock was chubbing. “Whatever.”

“What’s up, Samantha? Got your period?”

Sam huffed. “Fuck you, Dean.” Wrong thing to say. He knew it and started to turn away, but Dean was right there blocking him. Sam sat his ass down on the back of the couch and stared at the toes of his sneakers.

“Sammy?” Dean was too close. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Just … when are we leaving?” Dad wouldn’t have gotten such a small place if he’d thought they’d be there long.

“You want to move?” Dean asked. “Sam? Something going on at school I should know about?”

“No, it’s just, this place is so small.” He couldn’t meet Dean’s eye. His gaze got stuck on the thin cotton pulled tight over Dean’s chest, hard nubs poking through. “There’s no privacy.”

“Hey, the bathroom’s all yours, if you need some alone time.” Dean made loose fist and moved his arm up and down.

“Really, Dean?!” Sam exploded. “Shit! Everything isn’t about ... that!” He shoved past the solid bulk of his brother, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door. There was nowhere else to go. He had to get away from Dean, and he hated himself because it was all about that. Sam banged his forehead against the inside of the bathroom door.

“Okay, mac and cheese it is then!” Dean yelled from the other side.

~~~

Sam was sitting on the couch watching _Blade Runner_ for the umpteenth time when Dean walked in. He smelled of smoke and beer and cheap perfume. Just another Saturday night.

“Still up?” Dean commented as he walked past the couch to the kitchenette. Another efficiency, another town.

“It’s only eleven,” Sam said without taking his eyes off Rutger Hauer and Harrison Ford.

“Hmf,” was the only reply. The refrigerator opened and closed. Dean walked around the couch. Sam moved his feet from the couch to the coffee table so Dean could sit. Dean opened a beer and offered it to Sam before twisting the lid off his own.

“Thanks,” Sam said and took a drink. “So did you get lucky early or strike out?” Dean never struck out with girls, but Sam didn’t mind ribbing him about it.

“Made two-hundred bucks on the locals.” Dean smirked. He had his feet up on the table and one arm stretched out along the back of the couch. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off his brother’s profile – big eyes trained on the TV, lush lips pressed to the mouth of the beer bottle.

“I didn’t mean hustling pool,” Sam said.

“I know what you meant,” Dean said and side-eyed him. “Never kiss and tell, Sammy.”

Sam snorted. “Right. Sometimes I think you like bragging about it more than you like doing it.”

“Ha! Just giving my kid brother pointers.”

“I don’t want pointers,” Sam replied. The last thing he wanted was hearing about Dean’s sexual exploits over and over, every bar, every new town. Something dark and ugly twisted his stomach. Something that felt way too much like jealousy. He used to be the focus of Dean’s world. That’s all it was. They were growing up. That’s all.

“Don’t be such a girl, Sammy.” Dean raised the beer bottle to his lips again.

“I just hope you’re using condoms. That’s all,” Sam said. “Hate to think you’re leaving a bunch of little Deans all over the country.”

Dean made a visible shudder and drained his beer. “Bite your tongue.” He eyed Sam’s beer. “You gonna drink that?”

“Yes!” Sam said and pointedly took a drink.

Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Oooookay, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He rose and went to the refrigerator. “Why are you in such a mood anyway? Science fair get cancelled or something?”

“I’m not in a mood!”

Dean sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

~~~

Sam awoke in the night. The room was dark and oppressive. His dad sawed logs in the next bed. He didn’t know where he was for moment. That wasn’t unusual really. It happened from time to time. He had to think about the day before, the long drive in the Impala through corn and bean fields that stretched endlessly to the horizon, broken only by the occasional water tower or grain elevator in the distance. Illinois, no Iowa, this was Iowa. The Corn King Motel.

The air conditioner wheezed but blew little cool air. Dean’s upper arm was pressed against his, and his knee rubbed against Sam’s thigh as he shifted in sleep. They’d kicked the sheet off the bed and lay there in nothing but their boxers. Sam was hard in his shorts. He rose carefully from the bed and slipped his jeans on. The air was so damp and heavy, he just needed to breathe.

He grabbed the room key and slipped out the door. It wasn’t any cooler outside, but there was a bit of a breeze. The parking lot lights weren’t working, and only the motel sign featuring a giant ear of corn shed light from the other end near the office. Sam sat on the hood of the Impala and leaned back on his hands. The Milky Way arched above him. He took a breath of the thick summer air. He felt like he was drowning. It had been that way awhile. His hard on slowly subsided as he picked out the constellations.

He heard the motel room door open and saw a shadow emerge.

“Sam?” It was Dean. That was good. If it had to be someone, better Dean than Dad.

“Yeah.”

“What’s up?” Dean sat beside him.

“Too hot to sleep,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He looked up at the stars. Sam waited for him to say more or ask again. He knew Dean. He could feel the thoughts running through his brother’s head, but Dean just looked at the sky.

“You got any change in your pocket?” Sam asked.

Dean dug in his hip pocket. “Yeah, soda?”

There was a soda machine by the motel office. “Yeah, want one?”

He could barely make out the nod of Dean’s head in the dark. “I’ll go with ya.”

“’Kay.”

They slipped off the hood of the car and started across the parking lot.

“Listen, Sam.” Dean’s voice was low in the darkness, barely a murmur, but clear as a bell. “I feel like there’s something going on with you.”

“Dean.”

“No, listen.” Dean stopped and grabbed his arm. Light from the motel sign traced shadow of one dark eye, the plane of his cheek, and curve of his mouth. He looked young and delicate, nothing like the tough, swaggering guy he showed the world. Sam felt a desperate need to throw his arms around his big brother the way he had when he was a kid.

“I’m okay, Dean,” he said and walked away.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said as he caught up with him. “It’s just, you know....”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

Sam hated the emptiness and hurt in his brother’s voice. Dean meant well. He knew that. He just couldn’t. The pavement was warm and rough under his bare feet as he strode toward the light of the office. The soda machine sat beside the door. The lights had been dimmed inside, and a sign beside the door said to ring the bell after 10 p.m.

Dean stopped in front of the machine and looked at the choices. The bright light shone on his face and caught in his eyes. This was Sam’s Dean – stubborn and reckless and vulnerable as hell. He didn’t belong to some girl or any of those girls. He looked over at Sam. “So what’ll you have?”

Sam hadn’t even looked at the choices in the machine. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. He couldn’t look away. He wanted to memorize every freckle, every eyelash before Dean slipped away from him.

Dean arched an eyebrow and grinned like a ten year old. “They have Grape Crush, Sammy.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, Crush.”

Dean dropped the change in and pressed the button. There was a rumble and then a thud as the plastic bottle dropped into the slot. Dean pulled it out and offered it to him.

“Thanks.” He twisted the lid off and took a long drink of the icy purple soda. When he lowered it, he realized that Dean was standing there watching him. “What about you? Aren’t you getting something?” Sam asked.

Dean licked his lips and shrugged. “Nah,” he said and started to walk away.

Oh, Sam thought, oh shit. That was just like Dean. No point saying anything about it. Sam caught up as they walked back across the parking lot. He joined Dean on the warm car hood again.

“You want a drink?” Sam asked.

“Sure you don’t have cooties?” Dean joked and bumped shoulders.

“Cooties? Really? Anyway, I know you have girl germs.” He twisted the lid onto his soda and set it behind him. Screw Dean if he didn’t want any.

“Girl germs?”

“Yeah, from kissing on, on ...”

“My lips? Afraid I’ll get them on your soda?” Dean turned and tackled him, shoving him onto his back. “Maybe I should smear them on your lips,” he said laughing.

“Stop it!” Sam hissed.

“Ah, come on, Sammy, give me a kiss.” Dean laughed.

“No, Dean, get off me,” He twisted and wriggled, but Dean had the strength and weight and it was making Sam’s cock fatten.

“Don’t be such a prude, Sammy.” Dean was making exaggerated kissing sound into the darkness, and his lips brushed Sam’s cheek and then his chin. Dean’s leg rubbed over his crotch, and Sam was hard as rock. He had to get away. Dean had only put on jeans as well. His skin was sweat slick, and Sam couldn’t get a grip of his arm to pull him off. They were chest to chest. Sam twisted again, and Dean’s mouth came down right over his. Dean pulled away just as his thigh slipped between Sam’s legs in their struggle, and they froze. There was no way Dean didn’t feel how hard he was.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “Dean.” It sounded like a plea, but for what? Forgiveness? Understanding? More? Whatever it was, Dean seemed to understand. He pressed himself against Sam’s hip. He was hard, and Sam’s heart banged in his chest. Dean’s lips brushed across his and then pressed firm. Dean ran the tip of his tongue across the seam of Sam’s lips, asking, not demanding, and Sam opened for him. Sam had kissed a few girls, but none were like this. It wasn’t just that Dean was good at it because was he ever. It was that this was Dean, and it didn’t feel awkward or weird. It should. It was, but it felt safe like when Dean taught him how to ride a bike. Dean wasn’t going to let him fall.

Dean’s mouth was so soft and wet and so fucking hot. He kissed as though Sam was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and Sam felt light headed and breathless and needy. Dean grabbed Sam’s cock through his jeans and squeezed. Sam’s hips bucked. Their lips parted as his head dropped onto the hood of the car with a thump. Dean’s chuckle was low and dirty. He slipped closer and kissed Sam again as he undid Sam’s jeans one handed. Dean’s hand was hot and rough on his cock. It spurted precome as Dean grasped it.

“Oh God!” Sam gasped.

Dean made a humming sound of approval as he stroked and pulled once, twice, and Sam came all over his brother’s hand and his own belly. His back arched as his orgasm shook through him, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. As the wave of pleasure ebbed, he realized he was lying on the hood of the car with his brother’s hand his messy shorts. He pressed his face into the curve of Dean’s neck.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “It’s just us.”

Yeah, Sam thought, us. He clung to Dean and pressed his hand over the hard, thick length of Dean’s cock. Maybe it was the summer night, but he’d swear he could feel the heat of it bleeding through the denim. He wanted to feel it, needed to make Dean feel what he had.

“Sammy, wait,” Dean whispered. “You don’t have to.”

“I do. I want to.” He fumbled Dean’s fly open and pulled his cock out through the slit of his boxers. Dean was bigger than him. Of course he was. Sam still had some growing to do. Dean was practically a man, not even a teenager. He was so hard. Really turned on. Dean turned and lay back across the hood with one knee bent as Sam stroked his dick and ran his thumb over the slick head. He leaned over and licked the precome from the slit.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped. “You don’t ... don’t do that.” But Sam licked again and Dean’s hips rolled. He gripped Sam’s shoulder hard enough to bruise, and Sam engulfed the head with his mouth, suckled it while stroking the shaft. Dean grunted in surprise and Sam’s mouth was filled with salty slick. He swallowed and cradled the head on his tongue until Dean relaxed.

“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean sighed. “What the fuck?”

Sam let Dean’s cock slip from his mouth and let go of it. He wiped his hand on his jeans. Bitter come clung to the back of his tongue, and he searched for his soda in the dark.

“Jesus,” Dean said again.

It hit Sam what he’d done. He felt uncertain then. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

There was a pause before Dean spoke again. “Don’t be sorry, dude,” he said. “That was awesome. You just surprised me.”

Sam found his soda bottle up by the wipers and turned away from his brother as he took a drink.

“Hey,” Dean said. He sat up and put an arm around Sam. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I started it.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it’s me. I, I’m a freak. I’ve been feeling ... things. About you.”

“Sh,” Dean whispered. He squeezed Sam close and kissed his temple. “It’s okay, Sammy. We’re both freaks.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m right there with you.”

 

-30-


End file.
